


Them's the Breaks

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A belated Easter Egg for the 2016 MFUWSS Easter Egg Challenge - </p><p>Garonne's Prompt: celebration after a season of abstinence (you don't have to take that in a religious sense, though that would also be cool).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Them's the Breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Garonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garonne/gifts).



It had been just an ordinary day, one very much like so many others that the two men had shared. The morning was cool but promised great things.

“Hey, what do you think about lunch at the park?” Napoleon asked, tipping his head back to enjoy the early rays of sunshine on his face.  “I’ll even treat.”

“I think--”

Napoleon did never hear what Illya thought for the car came barreling at them, ending any semblance of a normal day. Napoleon was far enough away to throw himself to the side, colliding with a pile of New York’s finest garbage.

Illya wasn’t quite as fortunate. The car clipped him as he tried to move from its path.  It tossed him aside like a bronco would throw its rider and with the same violence.  It finally smashed through the plate glass window of a store.  Thankfully, it was closed, so the human damage wasn’t higher.

Napoleon was immediately at Illya’s side. Illya was mumbling and moaning in pain.

“Illya, what’s hurt?”

“My pride, mostly.” He tried to move and his eyes screwed shut as he hissed.

“I think a bit more than that.” Distant sirens told Napoleon help was on the way.

“Sorry. I think I’m going to need a rain check on lunch today.”

 

That was an understatement. Illya was transported to Medical and X-rays revealed a badly-fractured pelvis.  Doctor Hiram Bond shook his head as he studied them.

“You’re very lucky, Mr. Kuryakin. By rights, we should be wheeling you into surgery now.  However, you have very strong bones.”

“What does that mean?” Illya was flat on his back, his voice slurred by the pain meds.

“I’m going to put you in an immobilization traction sling and you are going to thank your lucky stars that it’s only that and not something much worse.”

“Do you know that your ceiling needs painting?”

“You’re welcome.” Bond was more than familiar with agents.

Napoleon was sitting outside the exam room, doing his best to ignore the subtle stench of his suit. Various nurses walked by and gave him sympathetic looks.  As Bond exited the exam room, Napoleon came to his feet.

“How is he, Doc?”

“Very fortunate. He has a fractured pelvis, but it should heal with no lasting issues, providing he and you give it the chance.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Doc.” Napoleon was openly confused and Bond pulled him aside, looking around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard.  Napoleon’s brow furrowed, but he allowed himself to be led.

“Napoleon, I’m not unaware of your shared history, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Doc.”

“I know you two are more than just partners.”

The light popped on and Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not exactly a secret, although we don’t spread it around.”

“Well, now you are going to spread even less.”

“Meaning?”

“No sex for at least a month.”

“A month?” Napoleon’s voice sounded pleading even to himself.

“At least. It could be longer if that pelvis isn’t permitted to heal.”  The doctor patted Napoleon’s back.  “Are you a religious man, Napoleon?”

“Not in particular, given my job description, but I was raised Catholic.”

“Well, think of it as giving up Illya for lent.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Neither is him getting permanently pulled from the field because you can’t control yourself.”

 

So warned, Napoleon determined that he would be strong. It was easy the first week and most of the second.  He buried himself in work and minor details.  The only time it got hard, literally and figuratively, was when he was visiting Illya.

It ended up to be longer than a month. Illya had to remain on complete bed rest, immobilized in traction for six weeks.  After that, there was two weeks of intense therapy, reconditioning Illya’s weakened muscles and stiffened hip joints back into action. Finally, Illya was released and wheeled down to the waiting sedan Napoleon had grabbed from the motor pool.

“Here we go.” He raced around the car to open up the door.  Illya managed to lever himself out of the chair with the cane he still needed.

“I’m not an invalid, Napoleon. I can open a car door.”

“Think of it as services rendered. You can make it up to me later.”

The ride back to Napoleon’s penthouse was filled with work- related small talk. The doorman greeted them warmly and helped Napoleon with Illya’s suitcases. 

“Am I moving in?” Illya asked as he slowly made his way to the elevator bank.

“For a couple of weeks, at least. You can’t negotiate the stairs in your building and I know what that elevator is like, even when it is working.” Napoleon happily punched the up button.  “I’m setting you up in the guest bedroom.  You’ll be comfortable there.”

Illya eyed the suitcases skeptically. “It’s rather ironic that when I came here, I had one suitcase and an address written down in my pocket.”

“Well, maybe, just maybe, it will be an extended visit.” They were now alone in the elevator.

“How extended?”

“Is forever too long to hope for?” Napoleon chanced a fast kiss just before the elevator stopped and the doors opened to permit another building resident to enter.

Illya merely smiled and closed his eyes, head bowed. He came back to life when they reached Napoleon’s penthouse floor. 

“Just make yourself at home. You know where everything is.”

“Yes, apparently it’s all here.” Illya stared at stacks of his records, books, magazines and other personal items.

“I didn’t want you to get bored,” Napoleon said as he re-entered.

“Didn’t Waverly have something to say about me moving in lock, stock and barrel?”

“I think he was just relieved to have you out of that death trap of a building you were living in.”

“It’s UNCLE’s building. Blame them, not me.”

“I’m not blaming anyone and your apartment is still yours, if you want it.”

“What I want has very little to do with where I’m living, but rather with whom.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s been nine weeks, Napoleon. If we aren’t in your bedroom and in mid-grope within the next five minutes, I’m out of here.”

“Has the doctor cleared you?”

“Close enough.”

“No dice. Unless he’s given you a clean bill of health, we have to take it easy.”

“At this point I will take it any way you give it to me.”

Napoleon grinned at this. “Then after you, my dear Alphonse.  Now, I know to be careful about your hip.  What did the doctor say about your heart?”

“I'm not worried. I know it’s in good hands.” 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
